


Metamorphosis

by Acacius



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Team as Family, Vampire Hunter/Vampire Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acacius/pseuds/Acacius
Summary: After the events at the theatre, Guillermo embarks on a new path as a vampire hunter, determined to leave his old life of servitude in the past. But nothing is ever that simple. Real change was painful. Sometimes, it even required blood.At least that was what Guillermo told himself as he held a stake firmly over Nandor’s heart.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless, Laszlo Cravensworth/Nadja
Comments: 19
Kudos: 34





	1. Prologue

_._

_._

_April 20 th, 2021— Approximately six months after the events at Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires…_

Cognitive dissonance was a funny phenomenon, Guillermo decided.

For more than a decade, he had been able to rationalize leading hundreds of humans to their inevitable deaths. And it hadn’t really required much mental gymnastics either. It was a bunny hop over a baby gate for the most part, barring the few times where he realized that he was an accessory to murder, if not a cold-blooded murderer himself. He had even been prepared to indirectly kill one of his best friends all in an attempt to please a house of vampires who didn’t give a shit about him. That had stuck with him the longest—how easy it had been to let Jeremy walk into a house full of horny, blood-hungry vampires. It was one moment he was still ashamed of and he doubted any amount of vigilante vampire killing would make him feel better.

With the death of the Baron, however, it was like a switch had been flipped. He had been near inconsolable at accidentally killing the primeval vampire, hiding amongst the bushes in the backyard while Nandor called for him. He thought at the time that his unusually strong emotional response had been due to the fear of being killed—but he knew now what the truth was.

Finding victims for the Staten Island vampires hadn’t made him feel much of anything. He felt a twinge of guilt that he dutifully hid away with the rest of his emotional baggage, an almost voyeuristic fascination with the way the vampires latched their teeth against the supple flesh of a victim’s neck, and a brief swell of pride at even a scrap of praise for a job well done. But when he saw the Baron’s charred remains at the bottom of the stairs, he had actually felt _good_. Powerful. Triumphant. And it terrified him.

It didn’t make sense. He _loved_ vampires, he reasoned with himself. Why else would he have such an obsession with them?

Unless…

Unless he had always been destined to _kill_ them. Perhaps he had misinterpreted his interest in vampires for one of intrigue when clearly he was supposed to be disgusted by them. Somewhere, the wires had been crossed and Guillermo, who should have come into his powers long ago, was left only with the vague sense that he belonged to the supernatural world in some inexplicable way. Drawn to the shadows as he was, thinking that if he were a vampire he’d have all the power and attention and—though he hated to admit it—love that he spent his adolescence and early adulthood searching for… if only he had known the truth.

He was stronger than he ever dared to dream. Stronger than any vampire. A monster to monsters. A boogeyman.

And, Guillermo thought, wiping cold vampire blood off his glasses, even if it had taken over a decade to accidentally stumble into his destiny as a vampire killer, it had all been worth it, in the end.

As he stuffed his hunting gear back into his duffel bag, the full moon providing him ample light to move about, he tried to ignore the dull ache in his chest at the thought of his old master. Even now, despite it being almost half a year since he left his cramped bedroom in the Staten Island house, he still recalled the vampire’s nightly routine by heart. The weather was pleasant so it was likely that Nandor would want to lounge in one of the garden chairs in the backyard, a heavy tome in hand, as Guillermo kept him company. It was a clear sky too, so Nandor would have leapt at the chance to teach him about the constellations and their Al Quolanudarian derivatives, pointing to the stars that weren’t completely blotted out by the city’s light pollution.

 _Guillermo_ , a familiar voice echoed in his mind, soft and pleading. _Guillermo, come home… please._

 _“Leave me alone,”_ Guillermo grumbled aloud, shrugging his duffel bag over his shoulder. _“I’m not your familiar anymore. You don’t get to order me around.”_

Through the ether, Nandor sighed dejectedly. _But I don’t want you to come back as my familiar… I want you to come back as my friend._

At that, Guillermo laughed. It was a bitter, hollow laugh. At one point in his life, hearing Nandor call him his friend was all he really wanted. Now, it only broke his heart.

_“Friends? We can’t be fucking friends, Nandor! I’m a vampire hunter. You are a vampire. Do the math. We’d kill each other.”_

_You were my sweet-smelling, virginal familiar for eleven years, Guillermo, and not once did I drink your blood—no matter how tempting it was. I never harmed you. And I never will._

At his words, Guillermo snorted. _“Yeah right—remember when I was in the hospital? Because you dropped me?”_

Nandor gave a long, awkward pause.

_Besides that… yeesh, I thought we were over that already. It was an accident._

“I was in the hospital recovering for three weeks,” Guillermo replied, deadpan.

_I said I was sorry!_

_“You never did say that, actually.”_

_Didn’t I? I’m sure I—_

_“No, you definitely didn’t… asshole.”_

_Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me that. Look, Guillermo, I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I was not the best master to you. I am not good with all this emotional feelings talk, but the truth is that you’ve been my friend for a long time. And just because you are some natural-born vampire killer doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly… sometimes. Right? Maybe you could come visit?_

Guillermo clenched his jaw shut, willing himself to stay silent. He knew what he would say if he opened his mouth—that he would admit aloud that there was a small part of him that was _afraid_ of himself. Afraid of what he might do to the vampires he once thought of as family.

He bowed his head, stopping in his tracks just before he reached the white van where the other vampire hunters sat waiting for him. _“I can’t. I’m sorry, Nandor. Maybe someday, but not today.”_

All at once, the tie between them was severed and Guillermo sighed wearily in relief. It was difficult, at first, hiding how he felt when his connection to Nandor was so strong. But he had learned to lean into his vampire hunter instincts, to let the desire to kill overcome any sense of loyalty and adoration that he still held for the man. It was better this way. It had to be.

Or so Guillermo kept telling himself.


	2. Coagulate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampire hunter squad is given some time to shine, guillermo’s glasses break, & nandor reveals just how poorly he’s been doing without guillermo at his side.

.

.

“For fuck’s sake,” Guillermo muttered, slamming the van door shut. He flung the duffle bag onto the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. The stakes inside the bag clattered around as the van pitched forward, leaving the cemetery gates in a trail of smoke and dirt.

“You okay, Guillermo?” one of the vampire hunters asked, reaching out and placing a steadying hand on Guillermo’s shoulder.

Guillermo slumped down further into his seat, but remained silent, unable to even begin to voice his issues.

He was thirty-one and currently living out of what amounted to a glorified frat house except instead of beer bottles and dirty laundry, there was a disturbing amount of stakes, crosses, garlic, and a Brita filter for making holy water. He didn’t have a single cent saved up despite having worked full-time for over a decade, his mom thought he had joined _another_ cult, and now he was spoken of by vampires in hushed, frightened tones, as if he were some demonic entity that could be summoned by name alone.

Oh, and Nandor, his clingy ex-master, apparently didn’t see any harm in trying to contact him—Guillermo de la Cruz, Staten Island’s newest but most prolific vampire hunter. He had gone through so much effort to keep the four vampires safe—both from himself and the Vampiric Council—but Nandor was apparently hell-bent on ruining all of his hard work. It was _infuriating._

“Guillermo?” the hunter asked again, the concern in his voice stirring Guillermo from his own brooding.

“Put your seatbelt on, Cricket,” he sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. “And I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“…If you say so, Boss,” the other man replied, pulling away and clicking his seatbelt into place.

Just as Guillermo was about to fall asleep, lured to the edge of unconsciousness by Carmilla’s inability to drive at any speed aside from the _exact_ speed limit, he sensed rather than heard her reach back for his duffel bag once they stopped at a red light.

He wearily cracked open one eye. “Carmilla, can’t you wait until we get back to the house?”

The woman didn’t even attempt to look embarrassed at being caught red-handed. “I just wanted to make sure you got the samples. You forgot last time.”

_I didn’t forget,_ Guillermo thought sourly to himself. _I just wasn’t in the mood to spend an extra thirty minutes pulling out vampire teeth for you._

“Well I got them this time.”

“And the brain? Did you get enough tissue—“

“The light’s green,” Cricket interrupted cheerily, pointing ahead.

Carmilla returned her attention to the road, the conversation effectively shelved for the time being. She turned the radio back on, classical music softly drifting from the speakers.

“…Sorry,” she eventually muttered, fingers flexing around the wheel.

Guillermo blinked owlishly. He had _never_ heard Carmilla apologize before.

“It’s okay,” he eventually replied, relaxing into his seat again.

In the ensuing silence, Cricket bent down and zipped the duffel bag shut, flashing Guillermo a wide grin.

Despite himself, Guillermo smiled back. He was trying not to get too attached to the other vampire hunters—to really see them only as coworkers that he happened to cohabitate with. But he had never been good at setting boundaries and it was hard to see them as just coworkers when he spent practically every waking moment with them.

Cricket and Carmilla were his trainers when Guillermo first joined the vampire hunter group. When his natural prowess revealed itself, he was immediately thrust into the role as head vampire hunter for the Staten Island branch. Which had been nice—he liked being a leader even if it was a lot of work.

Through it all, Cricket and Carmilla had been invaluable in their willingness to help him set the small Staten Island branch up for business. It was only to be expected that he’d grow attached to them even with their unique… eccentricities.

Cricket had come off immediately to Guillermo as an ex frat boy going through a Goth phase. The twenty-something year old had a bizarre amount of monochrome Hawaiian shirts and black cut-off shorts that he wore stubbornly even through the winter. He almost always had a Monster energy drink in his hand, rambled incessantly about football despite how many times Guillermo told him he had no interest in sports, was an obvious gym rat, and had recently dyed his hair silver because he thought it might scare vampires away since it was _silver_ , after all. But he also had the personality of a Golden Retriever, cooked dinner for the group most nights, and never stopped trying to involve Guillermo (and, surprisingly, Carmilla) into whatever light-hearted shenanigans he was up to at the house.

Carmilla, on the other hand, had intimidated Guillermo at first. She was a half-vampire, but showed no loyalty towards her fellow bloodsucking creature of the night. And though she had never disclosed her age, her piercing gaze spoke volumes to her ancient blood. She didn’t go out into the field much as she was more interested in the science and physiology of vampires, always requesting for Guillermo to collect samples of tissue and bone for her research. Her cold, reclusive nature along with the sharp glint of her fangs made most of the other hunters uneasy, but Cricket had apparently warmed up to her immediately. Guillermo, in turn, appreciated Carmilla’s blunt honesty and that she would let him linger in the calm quiet of her cellar-turned-lab whenever the duties as the group’s leader became too much. That was when Guillermo realized that Carmilla’s kindness was naturally understated; she didn’t care what people thought of her and spent no time worrying over their opinions.

In short, they were probably the weirdest of the Staten Island vampire hunters, but then it was no surprise that they had all gravitated towards each other. Once Carmilla parked the van safely in the garage, she turned around in her seat, gaze softening slightly.

“I need to go feed,” she admitted, a drop of self-loathing in her otherwise neutral tone. It was likely that only Guillermo and Cricket would catch the change in her voice, but that wasn’t surprising given just how little she interacted with the other hunters at the house.

Cricket immediately shoved his wrist in front of her face, grinning. “Okay, here you go! Man, I’m gonna sleep _so_ well tonight.”

“Cricket… you don’t have to,” Carmilla said, looking away from the man’s pale skin with a gulp. “Just go to bed. I’ll find someone else—“

“What, is O-neg not your fave or something?” He brought his wrist closer to her mouth, practically waving it around. “Better drink up now—I know how you get when you haven’t drank in awhile. Cranky. Like that Snicker’s commercial.”

Camilla bristled and grabbed his wrist if only to keep him from trying to stick the appendage in her mouth. “I do _not_ get cranky.”

“Yes you do.”

“I do not.”

“Then what do you call this? Back me up, G-man.”

“Umm… I think I’m gonna just go,” Guillermo said, sliding open the van door. “I’ll make sure to put the samples in the lab, Carmilla.”

He left before either of the pair could respond, escaping to the safety of his room with a relieved sigh. They bickered like school children half the time and Guillermo wasn’t in any mood to discipline them, especially given the night he had. After dropping off his vampire hunting equipment, he blearily made his way downstairs to the lab, shivering at the sudden rush of cold air as he descended the creaking wooden stairs.

It was easy enough to put the plastic container of brain tissue in the fridge and the teeth onto the metal shelf where Carmilla kept the other samples that did not need to be refrigerated. Unfortunately, due to his sleep-addled haze, he managed to trip on the wheel of a cart as he was leaving the lab, tumbling forward with a surprised yell, his glasses skidding across the floor as he fell.

_“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,”_ Guillermo groaned, crawling forward on his hands and knees. His right hand made contact with his glasses just as he heard the door to the lab swing open.

“I heard a yell—are you okay, Guillermo?” Carmilla’s voice rang out before she appeared at his side, still wiping blood from the corner of her mouth.

“I’m fine physically, but my glasses…” Guillermo rose to his feet, showing off the fractures in the glass of the lens. “There’s no way I can afford a new pair right now.”

“Do you have another pair somewhere? In the mean time, at least. I can help you pay for a new pair, but you can’t go walking around blind.”

Guillermo paused, wracking his brain. He did have an older frame, but where had he left it? Within seconds, his lips pulled into a frown.

God, could his night get _any_ worse?

“…Yeah, I have another pair. Can you drop me off somewhere?”

* * *

One annoying thing about being a vampire was that you often had too many memories to keep track of. Sure, a long-lived human could have a hundred years of memories to arrange within the confines of their skull, but vampires had centuries of time to sift through. Whether consciously or not, most vampires—at least the ones who still cared about their place in the world—surrounded themselves with physical mementos, a way to relive even their oldest memories, if only for a short moment. This meant that in a span of time that would otherwise be insignificant to an immortal, you could potentially collect enough junk to fill an entire house… or twenty.

Nandor, who was even more sentimental than the average vampire, found that he could not escape the reminders of a certain familiar-turned-vampire-hunter, not when every square foot of the house rattled with Guillermo’s memory. It was a lot like being haunted, the vampire realized. Guillermo was no longer there—hadn’t been for over six months now—but his absence was as apparent as if someone had blown the roof off the Victorian-style mansion.

In the foyer, Nandor recalled holding Guillermo up as he dusted the chandelier, learning with time to be careful of the spider houses that the vampire secretly cherished. Spider webs were beautiful, delicate structures that were often swept away in the blink of a careless eye. He could relate much too well to the feeling of coming home to ruins. That was what it had felt like for Nandor when he learned that Al Quolanudar no longer existed.

He had ridden into battle after battle to expand the reign of his country, spent decades creating one of the most fearsome armies that the world had ever seen, and then, after being driven out by his own family at the sight of fangs and blood dripping from his mouth, everything he had spent so much time and effort building came crumbling down around him. It was no wonder that he felt so strongly for the spiders that had chosen to make their home between the sloping arms of the green and gold chandelier. Yes, perhaps he was soft in ways that no vampiric Ottoman warlord ever should be, but that didn’t stop him from smiling sadly to himself at the sight of the cobwebs every time he stepped foot through the doorway.

With a sigh, Nandor rose from the chaise lounge that he always sat in while communicating through the ether. He knew he could potentially hypnotize Guillermo, make him come back home against his will, but even the mere thought of abusing his vampiric powers to manipulate his ex-familiar left a sour taste in his mouth. In the eleven or so years that he acted as Guillermo’s master, he had never taken advantage of him in such a way, never crossing the unspoken line that his vampire housemates seemed so fond of bending to a breaking point.

Well, up until they acquired Sam as a familiar, anyway. For once, the pair actually seemed to be taking good care of their familiar, and, on account of being a feline and not a human, the curses embedded in Laszlo’s witch hat slid away from Sam like water off a duck’s back. For that, Nandor was glad. He liked Sam. He wasn’t Guillermo, but he wasn’t a bad familiar to have around by any means.

As if summoned from his thoughts alone, Sam came trotting into the room, rubbing up immediately against Nandor’s left leg. A soft smile crept across the vampire’s features as he stooped down to pet the little familiar’s head. The gold bell on Sam’s red-velvet collar, shaped like a bat, chimed ominously at the movement.

“Hello there, Sam. Are you having a good evening?”

The cat meowed loudly, head-butting Nandor’s hand.

Nandor chuckled, continuing to stroke the cat. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

Sam tilted his head, yellow eyes boring into the vampire. Nandor shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“No, you do not need to trouble yourself on my account. I… have already eaten. You only need to bring back one human virgin for Laszlo and Nadja to share.”

Sam gave another knowing look.

“I’m fine. I _promise_.”

He wasn’t—not by a long shot, but he didn’t want to burden Sam with the details. The feline was a trailblazer of a familiar and would no doubt rise to become one of the few familiars that was actually turned into a vampire at the end of their service.

At his words, Sam pulled away with a _mrrph,_ disappearing out of the room. Nandor listened to the barely perceptible sound of the cat walking across the floorboards, bell jingling, before he returned with something clutched in his mouth.

Nandor took the object and squinted, wondering if it was perhaps something from a past victim. A moment later, the scent hit him and his nostrils flared. _Guillermo_. It was Guillermo’s round glasses, the right lens covered in a dry layer of blood. Vampire blood. The very same glasses that Guillermo had worn at the theatre where he had slaughtered a roomful of vampires with ease.

“Where did you find this, Sam?” he breathed, realizing with a tinge of self-pity that he had another trinket to add to his sad, growing pile of things that reminded him of Guillermo.

He had already moved the glitter portrait out of Guillermo's old room and into his own, keeping it propped up against the wall across from his coffin. It was the first thing he saw every evening when he woke, the fanged image of Guillermo and himself stirring an age-old ache in his chest. Perhaps he should have turned Guillermo--he had plenty of chances to do so and he wasn't completely oblivious to the hopeful look in Guillermo's eyes whenever his gaze lingered a beat too long at his throat. If he had, Guillermo would have been at his side right now instead of with a motley crew of vampire hunters. But no matter how many times he told himself that he would do it, that he could rob the very blood and breath from Guillermo's body, doubt always creeped in like an unwanted guest. What if Guillermo decided to leave, having gotten exactly what he wanted out of Nandor? Regardless of how it came about, however, the vampire's worst fear had come true: Guillermo had left him. And, in his absence, Nandor had finally realized just how lonely he truly was. 

Sam meowed loudly, interrupting Nandor's current emotional spiral, tail flicking subtly in the direction of Guillermo’s room. Or, what used to be his room.

“In the nightstand? He must have accidentally left them in his haste to leave. Do you think he would want them back?”

Nandor turned to look at Sam, only to realize the cat had already disappeared, most likely trotting off to find a suitable meal for Nadja and Laszlo.

The vampire frowned, stroking his beard with his free hand. “I guess he would have come back already if he needed them.”

“Hey Nandor, are you talking to yourself again?” Colin Robinson asked, stepping into Nandor’s crypt with a wide grin. He had more than likely witnessed the entire conversation with Sam, but chose now to intervene and drive the conversation to a delicious state of awkwardness.

“Go away, Colin Robinson. I don’t have any spare energy to give you right now,” Nandor said, making a shooing motion.

“Now is that any way to treat your favorite vampire housemate?”

Nandor gritted his teeth. “You are my _least_ favorite housemate. I would prefer the company of the rotting corpse in the cellar compared to you.”

“Ouch,” Colin replied, giving a light chuckle. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the casket this evening.”

“And someone may not be waking up at all if they don’t leave soon.”

“Y’know, ever since Guillermo quit being your familiar to go be a badass vampire hunter you’ve become really rude. It’s not cool, man.”

Nandor hissed, eyes flashing gold. “Leave. _Now_.”

At one point in time, Colin Robinson would have hissed back, knowing full well that Nandor was just doing his usual posturing and _big-turkey-posing_ as Nadja called it. But considering that the vampire had very recently thrown Laszlo through the roof after he made a snarky comment about Guillermo, the energy vampire knew not to push his luck nowadays.

“Fine. Sheesh. I was just checking in on you, Nandor. You know we’re all your friends too, right? Just because Guillermo left doesn’t mean that we’ll leave too—“

Colin ducked out of the doorway just as a heavy book flew past, hitting the opposite wall of the hallway hard enough to leave a crack in the plaster.

* * *

A few hours later, the doorbell chimed its usual portentous tune.

All three vampires who had taken to the music room to wheedle away the rest of the night shared a curious look. No one was expecting visitors.

“Nandor, go open the door for Sam,” Laszlo said, waving a hand from his seat at the piano. “The cat’s poor little paws just can’t grasp a round doorknob all too well, you know that.”

“Why don’t you get up and go to the door, then? Why must _I_ go to help _your_ familiar?”

Nadja rolled her eyes. “It’s because you are closest to the door, you giant turkey. Go, before whoever it is decides to leave. Because whoever it is, they are very deliciously human and…” Nadja sniffed again, smile fading. “Hmm… possibly a gravedigger? I smell a hint of burial dirt. And rain.”

With a huff, Nandor slinked off to the foyer, muttering under his breath about doing jobs clearly meant for familiars.

“No offense, Sam,” he said offhandedly to the cat that was waiting patiently by the door.

Sam gave the feline equivalent of a shrug.

With an embarrassing amount of difficulty, Nandor was eventually able to pull the door open only to gape at the sight before him.

“ _Guillermo?”_

“Can I come in… please? It’s freezing out here,” Guillermo asked, clothing soaked by the rain. He had obviously been caught up in the sudden rainstorm, his skin flushed from the cold. He was also not wearing glasses—a rare sight, even for Nandor, who had spent the better part of a decade with Guillermo rooted beside him.

Though he had always told himself that he would remain aloof if Guillermo came crawling back to the house, the reality of what transpired was very different.

Nandor impatiently tugged Guillermo inside with a growl, lips pulled into a serious frown. “What, you leave for six months and suddenly you think you no longer belong here or something? Where’s your house key? Did you lose it?”

“I-I was just trying to be polite,” Guillermo stuttered, clearly shocked by Nandor’s behavior. “I know you wanted me back, but Nadja and Laszlo…”

Sam piped up with a long meow, circling Guillermo’s feet.

“Oh, hey Sam! It’s great to see you,” Guillermo cooed, unable to resist reaching down to scratch underneath Sam’s chin. At another drawn-out meow, Guillermo chuckled. “I told you they’d be a handful, didn’t I?”

Nandor wrinkled his nose, suddenly aware of the scent of dried vampire blood. It had been otherwise hidden by the rainwater and Guillermo’s human scent, but standing so close to him… it was impossible to ignore.

He smelled of a graveyard, the stench of rot and dirt permeating the air between them. It was a far cry from how Guillermo used to smell. Yes, he had been burying human bodies for the vampires before his awakening as a vampire hunter, but he had always worn protective gear, leaving the gloves, boots, apron, and face shield out in the backyard to be hosed down later. In truth, there had always been a touch of death to his natural scent, a reminder that he too belonged to the world of the supernatural even if he was only a human, but never had the stench of decay been so overpowering. If anything, he smelled more like a vampire now then he ever did working as Nandor’s familiar.

The thought made Nandor's stomach drop. 

“Go wash up,” Nandor ordered, only faltering slightly at the wide-eyed look Guillermo had given him. “You reek of dead vampire.”

“I just came to pick up my old glasses. I’ll be gone before you even—”

“You’re not staying?” Nandor interrupted, unable to hide his crestfallen expression.

Guillermo took a fleeting glance at the door. He was silent, taking a deep, shaky breath before interlacing his fingers together, a habit that even Nandor had picked up on as an indicator that he was stressed, if not anxious.

“Look, I’ll stay,” he paused, clocking Nandor’s giddy look. “But only for today. I’ll be gone in the morning. Or afternoon, I guess. Since it is almost five in the morning right now.”

Nandor clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll get Sam to draw you a bath.”

Guillermo slipped his phone out of his pocket and Nandor watched curiously as he typed out a message, looking even more tired than he did a few moments ago. There was a beat of silence before Guillermo’s phone began to ring.

“H-hey,” Guillermo said, voice slightly pitched with nerves. “N-no, you don’t need to come in, Carmilla. They’re… old friends.” Another pause. “Uh yeah, they _might_ be vampires but it’s not a big deal. Promise.” Guillermo sighed. “I’m not being hypnotized right now, I swear. Can you pick me up around 5 tomorrow? Thanks—I’ll call if anything changes.”

“Was that a little vampire hunter friend?” Nandor asked, curious.

“Yeah. She drove me here since I’m basically blind right now.”

Nandor frowned at his words. When he spoke, he spoke slowly, hesitantly. “Will… will you need help with your bath, then?”

“What? No!” he spluttered. “I mean I’ll manage just fine on my own. Thanks.”

The vampire nodded, gesturing towards the stairs. “Go up to the bathroom. I’ll let the others know that you’ll be staying for the day.”

Wordlessly, Guillermo obeyed, following Sam up the stairs to the bathroom attached to the blue room. Nandor stood rooted in the foyer, thoughts swirling wildly in his brain before he was brought out of his pondering by the sound of someone calling his name.

“Nandor! Who was at the bloody door?” Laszlo called from the music room.

With a grimace, Nandor stalked over to the room, knowing full well that he would likely be in for a lecture from his housemates over letting Guillermo stay the night.

* * *

Guillermo, head pressed against the lip of the claw-foot tub, sighed to himself. Steam rolled like a gentle fog across the bathroom as he closed his eyes, sinking further into the murky water. Here, in the safety and comfort of the tub, Guillermo let his mind wander. It was a mistake. 

Unbidden, he imagined himself poised over Nandor, a stake clutched in his hand. He imagined the satisfaction he would feel as the wood pierced through the brocade fabric at Nandor's chest before sinking through flesh and sinew. He imagined the look of betrayal on Nandor's face, the way the color would drain from his features with every rivulet of dark blood that would come bubbling from his heart. He imagined getting up afterwards, once Nandor was truly gone from the world, and how he would calmly adjust his clothes, wipe the blood splatter off his cheek, and leave the vampire's mangled body without so much as a parting glance.

Guillermo hissed to himself not unlike the vampires did, having picked up a few of their eccentricities in the decade or so that he had lived with them, and sunk further into the water. He didn't stop sinking until his head was fully submerged and then he held his breath, ignoring the burning feeling in his lungs. When he came back up for air a few minutes later, gasping for breath, the images had settled back into the shadowed recesses of his mind. There were hundreds of ways he could kill the vampires within the house, he knew this from all the time he spent waiting for assassins to show up at the door back when the Vampiric Council was still actively hunting them, but some dark part of him knew that if he were to hurt anyone in the house, it would be Nandor. And it would be personal. _Intimate._ The kill would be the culmination of over a decade of conflicting emotions, of all the messy, horrible, monstrous things he felt for Nandor, all wrapped up in a single, piercing blow to the vampire's heart. 

This, Guillermo thought to himself, shivering despite the rich heat of the water, was exactly why he did not want to come back to the house. He did not want to hurt Nandor--he wanted to _kill_ him. Or at least his vampire hunter side definitely did. He still wasn't sure if he had chosen to stay at the house for the day because of the deep ache he felt at Nandor's crestfallen expression or if, even subconsciously, it was because his hunter side wanted to kill Nandor in his sleep. But there wasn't much he could do now, could he? He was already in the house, a monster amongst monsters, and it was anyone's guess as to what his hands would do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guillermo: there's nothing that would ever make me go back to the house!!!!
> 
> also guillermo, five seconds later: fml i need to go back to the house
> 
> anyway, thank u to everyone who's shown interest in this little fic idea! y'all are truly the best~ 
> 
> (oh & btw, the 2 vampire hunter OCs will likely continue to show up thru the fic bc 1) guillermo deserves more friends that appreciate him & 2) i'm way too attached to them already lol)


End file.
